THE BOOKFLLOW.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIX, Issue 89, 16 April 1910, Page 9

THE BOOKFLLOW.

Written for The Post, by A. G. Stephens. (Copyright. — All Rights Reserved.) "THE CANADIAN KIPLING." It takes florae kind of a man, if only one kind of a poet, to begin a piece of verse with : I took a contract to bury tho body of blasphemous Bill MacKic — And that is just the kind of man and poet R. W. Service is. They call him "The Canadian Kipling" — with tho necessary "colonial" interval — because the law of ease or laziness impels people to ask for pigeon-holes and labels, and because Kipling has Sorvico's quality of rough, energetic expression in verse. But Kipling bos learned to concentrate, and Ihh form is calculated : Service goes on, goes through, in a long helter-skelter of rhymes that would be doggerel but for the fierce force he displays. "Songs of a Sourdough" made Service's name in Canada, and brought him some notice in England. "Ballads of a Cheechako," just published by Unwin, are similar verses for the Yukon goldtrail, the Arctic struggle of man with man and nature. They interpret the fact vividly ; yet, • considering how foreign they are to us, one can understand how foreign a great deal of Australasian verse seems to England, where toi and damper seem just as barbaric as sourdough and cheechako. Still : I took a contract to bury the body ofr blasphemous Bill MacKio. . . There is life in that vigorous opening. And Bill paid cash for a tombstone-— and one day he died. Service can picture frozen scenes vividly : You know what it'n like in tho Yukon. wild when it's sixty-nino < belcw ; When tho ice-worms wriggle their purple . heads through tho crust oA tho pale bluo snow ; When tho pine treea crack like littk> guns in the silence of tho wood. And tho icicles hang down like ti/sfcs under the parka hood ; When tho stovepipe smoke breaks sudden off, and the sky is weirdly lit, And tho caroless feel of a bit of steel burns like a red-hot epil,; When the mercury is a frozen ball, and the frost-fiend stalks to killWell, it was just liko that that day I set out to look for Bill. And Bill was frozen to death. Have you over stood in an Arctic hut in the shadow of the .Pole, With a littlo coffin six by three, and a grief you can't control? Have you over eat by a frozen corpse that looks at you with a grin, And that seems to say : "You may try all day, but you'll never jam mo in?" Cm not ii man of tho quitting kind, but I novrr felt so blue As I sal tiiero gazing ut that stiff and studying what Pd do. Then I rose and kioked off the husky dogs that were nosing round about, And I lit a. roaring fire in tho stove, and I started to thaw Bill out. Well, I thawed and thawed for thirteen days, but it didn't seem no Rood ; His arms and legs stuck out liko pegs, as if they was mado of wood. Till at last I said: "It ain't no use— he's froze too hard to thaw ; He's obstinate, and ho won't lie straight, so I guess I got to saw." So I sawed off poor Bill's arms and legs, And I laid him snug and straight In tho littlo coffin ho picked hiseelf, with the dinky silver plato; And I cams nigh to shedding a tear as I nailed him safely down; Then I stowed him away in my Yukon sloigh, and I started back to town. So I buried him as tho contract was iv a narrow gravo and deep, And thero he's waiting the Great Cleanup, when tho Judgment sluiceheads sweep; And I stnoko my pipo and I meditate in tho light of the Midnight Sun, And sometimes I wonder if they was, the awful things I done. And as I sit and the parson talks, expounding of the Law, I often think of poor old Bill— and how hard he was to saw. So, in such a measure consecrated to tho primitive balladry of primitive folk, Service pictures well the life he has seen. The manner isn't literary, but tho effect is very human. "Samuel Cliall White," with a littlo more impetus and encouragement, might have done as much for New Zealand. And, all difference of conditions allowed for, there are miners in New Zealand who will appreciate "The Prospector" — the eternal prospector, everywhere tho same : For once you've panned the speckled sand and eeen the bonny dust, Ite peerless brightness blinds you liko a spell; j It's littlo elso you care about ; you go because you must, And you feel that you could follow it to hell. You'd follow it in hunger, and you'd follow it in cold; You'd follow it in solitude and pain; And when you're stiff nnd battened down. let some ono whisper "Gold !" You're lief to rise and follow it again. Perhaps I am stark crazy, but there's none of you too sano; It's just a little matter of degree. My hobby is to hunt out gold; it's fortrewed in my brain ; It's life and love and wife and home to mo. And I'll strike it, yes, I'll strike it; I've a hunch I cannot fail ; I've a vision, I'vo a prompting, I've a call; I hear tho hoarse stampeding of an army ou my trail, To the last, the greatest gold camp of them all. Beyond tho shack-tooth ranges sawing savage at the sky There's a lowering land no white man over struck; There's gold, there's gold in millions, and I'll find it if I die, And I'm going there once more to try my 'uck. Maybe I'll fail— what matter? It* a mandate:, it's a vow ; And when in lands of- dreariness and droad You seek tho l«wt lone frontier, far boyond your frontiers bow, You'll find tho old prospector, silent, dead. You will find a tattered tent-pole with a ragged robe below it; You will find a rusted gold-pan on the sod; •You will find tho claim I'm seeking, with my bones as stakes to show it; But I'vo sought the last Recorder, and Ho's — God. HOUDINI. The man who does one thing better than any other man in the world is worth knowing. For the world is large, and ono c man by comparison is a molecule, nothing. So, to surpass all competitors, if only at picking up pins, argues merit — not in the feat, but in the man. The thing that Houdini does is to escape from locks, bolts, bars, links, chains, hasps, clamps, staples, latches, holdfasts, shackles, handcuffs, fetters, padlocks manacles, and bilboes better than any other man in the world. At least no other man has such a record of evasions, or has successfully defied so many large blue policemen in their pride. In fact, there seems to be only ono bond that Houdini has not escaped from. "I am a willing prisoner to my goo'l wife." "I want vo be first," says Houdini. ''I vehemently want to be first. First in my profession, in my speciality in the profession. For that I give all the thought, all the power that is in me. To stand at the head of my rank : it is all I ask. When I can no longer, good-bye thft.jojuol lifo fpr.maj

j "So t have struggled and fought, I have done and abstained, I have tortured my body and risked my life, only for that — to have one plank on the stag* where the imitatons cannot come, one spot where they must fall back and cry 'Master '.' "The imitators — they disgust me; I have been proud of my work,t but now I am ashamed— to <ccc it so misrepresented. The women especially. It is to avoid their imitation /jhat 1 do some fpats in a particular way, where the women cannot follow nip. TV«y are cunning, but they cannot follow inc. VERY GUJNNING WOMEN. "Some woftien are very cunning , 1 am terrified of these very cunning women I am my own manager; I do my own business ; 'but not with some women managers. There is one in Russia ; she beats me 'every time ; I know it, I can not help 7U; she is too clever for me. The contract tooks all right, but no ! I find out afte/.-wards. And there was a business woman in Melbourne — as soon as I saw her I said, 'I give up ! I surrender! You aro too good for me* Help, my wife !' For a man may conquer many women, but there are some worn^ji that only a woman can conquer. "PyO I have conquered the four elements — fire, water, 'earth, and air— and ma/ny men in my profession, bnt the women trick me. Fire? When I leapec/i handcuffed and manacled into boiling malt — be sure I did not stay there long ! Water — when I leaped from heights, handcuffed and manacled, into icy rivers, I where it was death if I missed my divo —death if I could not get free. Earth — night after night mastering the resistance of matter to the flesh and the will. Air — when I made the first sustained flight on an aeroplane in Australia — others invented the aeroplane, but as long as there is Australia, I am the first to fly in Australia. "You will think I am vain to tell you these things. But I am a Magyar, and Magyars are vain. American born, Magyar descended ; my parents came from Austria, my father was a clergy nftn in Wisconsin. My name Ericth Weiss ; my height about. sft 7in ; weight about 12st; 36 this month of April. Only 36; but I feel old;, I have done too much in order to be. in 'my poor little way, Columbus. I am strong, as you see ; strong in flesh, but my will has been stionger than my flesh. I havestruggled with iiron and steel, with locks and chains ; I hive biirned and drowned and frozen till my body has become almost insensible to pain ; I have done things which rightly I could not do, because I said to myself 'You must' ; and now I am old at 36. A man is only a man, and the flesh revenges iteelf. THE WILL AND THE FLESH. "Yet the will is it* master when the will is strong enough. Do you think that these religious martyrs— the willing martyrsr— those of India, say — who torture themselves by driving hooks through their flesh and swinging suspended — do you think they suffer pain? 1 say, 'No, they do not' ; I have proved it myself. To think vehemently of a things of (he feat, of the object of the feat — that conquers the pain, some kinds of pain. If the thought is intense enough, the pain goes — for a time. "Sometimes the task set me is very hard. Not every night,' but sometimes, I muet fling myself down and writhe; I must strive with every piece of force I possess ; I bruise and batter myself against the floor, the walls ; I strain and sob and exhaust myself, and begin again, and exhaust myself again ; but do I feel pain? Never. How can I feel pain ? There is no place for it. A* my mind is filled with the one thought —to get free! get free! And the Intoxication of that freedom, that success ! It l& sublime. "Afterwards? Oh, afterwards. I do not say. It is the afterwards that make* me feel old at 36. "It is good for me that I am nob a toll man. Why ? Because I must b« quick ! quick ! and the tall man is always slow. It is so all through the profession. : the besjt men are not too high. A ta.ll man i« easy-going, goodnatured ; a short man is sometimes good tempered, more often not so. All the mean, cunning men that I have known — short! All the keen, eager, ambitious m&n — short! And for work — the tall man has too much to carry, he is 'too far from the ground, he cannot lose and recover balance as it is necessary, in a) flash. THE THREE NEEDS OF AN ACROBAT. "Balance — and tjempo — and (nerve— the three things we all need in the profession. Sometimes an acrobat will lowa his tempo, the time that he carries in his head for every trick : he does licit know why. It is like a verce of poetry you cannot remember. What is it ? What is it- ? You knew it yesterday. But to-day ! And the audience is waiting. Pass ! — better luck next time. "Everybody learns to balance on the feet; but a performer such as an acrobat learns to balance in time — just as if he did it to a music he carries in his head. One, two, three ! and at every beat your body and limbs must b6 just so. Lose the tempo, an.d they are all astray ; the trick is spoiled. Still worse when you lose nerve. Again you do nofc know why. You feel well in yourself ; but- suddenly you feel you cannot do the trick. But the audience is waiting ; you drive yourself to do it — suicide! That is tbe way the performers of dangerous feats die. I have leaped from a bridge knowing I could not leap, knowing I would strike the water fla/t and be killed. But in the air, my nerve came back. Almost too late, but I was able to do a little iturn in the air. Only two black eyes that time! PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION. "Travel helps us a- lot — it is education. The agents and the managers educate. They would buy you cheap— yoa must sell yourself dear. When you liave been bested fifty times you learn something. Three things are needed for the audience — the trick, tho man, and the advertisement. Fifteen years ago, when I was 21, I was a better man than, I am to-day. Youth, nerve, skill — nothing could defeat me. But I had only the trick and the man to sell, and I had trouble in getting £5 a- week. Now I am well known I ask £50 a night — I sail the advertisement. Of course, behind the advertisement there is still tbe trick and .the man ; the advertisement is no good without them. But all three together — thait is success, fame, j money ! "When I was young ! Once my career hung on this little thing. My train was five minutes late in making a connection at Chicago, and the other train was ready to pull out. I asked some people to help get my luggage across the platform, and I ran to the conductor. "Hold this train a minute, please; it is very important to mo. 1 'I have nothing to do with that.' 'But if I do not catch this train •vith my baggage I lose 'my contradt for months' — and it was th« first important contraot I had gained, I know it would be the making of me. 'Can't help that' — and he gave the signal, I ran to the front of the engine, and lay down across the rails, clutching the sleepem with hands and feet. I was ready to die rather than lose that contract : I would not have moved. Tho engine-driver whistled ; he let in a little steam to his cylinders ; the engine came forward to the couplings ; but he did not dare to go ahead. I lay there till my baggage was in ; then I got up, jumped into a carriage, and off to fortune ! NO ALCOHOL ; NO TOBACCO. "So I take care of my tricks, I 4ftk<3.

care of myself, and I take care of my advertisement. The aeroplane — that was 1 my sport, my hobby, but it broogbti advertisement. It is afl xoand ihe world : Houdini flew in Australia ; yes, we know Houdini ; £50 a night ! Fop myself I am a-lways well, eating like" everybody, and witii good appetite — P do not smofcfi ; I do not know the taste oi drink. Why? Not inclined. Good 1 for some, peihaps ; not good for me. And the performance i» ex-ercise-enougfe. "As to escapes? No; I do not efmplv slip my hands. I give you my word" that I pit k the locks, every lock, every time. J-iow, when lam put in A eell 1 naked? That is my secret-. As a boy I was apprenticed to a locksmith ! P hay». been apprenticed to a locksmith ever since— myself ! I make locks that) no one can pick, and then. I never rest till I have picked them. For tho fitraiijht- jacket — well, I have a very round bade, and I can dislocate mv shoulders. That gives tho inch or two of play, no mailer how tightly they strap me and, applying my strength, methodically, I am etrong, to make those inches more. "The .newspaper* do not matter to me now as formerly ; but to a beginner —very much! It is not that the good' word helps greatly ; but the bad word 1 is so damaging. Many in the profession arc jealous, all striving against the other; they repeat the bad word, and 1 it may kill a really good man. So, noK for myself, but for others, I would say to the- gentlemen of the preos : * Hay« a oonseiraoe in your criticism, and knowledge, and appreciation of the conditions. Condemn us if we deserve it yet remember that a hasfty word may go far to ruin some poor wretch. D© not kill us only for eport!"